I'm So Lost Without Him (Journal)

My worst fears have come true, and I feel like my world has been torn asunder. What I had overheard in the library that day was true, but I could not begin to fathom to what extent. My Master had been appointed to a secret mission; by whom I did not know. It all happened so fast, and I was not privy to most of what was going on about me.

His selling of Iris to the slaver, Master Hagan, should have clued me in that things were going to be far more difficult to endure than I had imagined. Master was always pleased with Iris. He would not have branded her with his personal brand if he hadn't been. That was only the first of my hardships that I had to suffer. When he was away on long assignments it was iris' body that kept me warm at night. Now, I had neither of them.

Before he left he sat me down, and explained the danger of what was about to take place. He didn't explain to me why he sold Iris, but now I believe it was to reduce the chances of her being killed, and also--he needed my skills as a scribe. It was better to have my being watched by Canoos while he was away so that he could have easy access to me without having to go through others.

I arose one day to find him gone. The hand wasn't so difficult, but the second one began to have me worrying. It was two hands before he made contact with me. He was garbed in the robes of a scribe, and he found me at the paga den. Fortunately there was no one about but me, and the kitchen Master. He whisked me through the den, through the kitchen, and into the back alley. I didn't know it was him because he had the hood of his robes drawn down about his visage.

I had lifted my arms as he pressed my body against the wall. With forearms flush, and body crushed under his weight he reached down to run his fingers through the plush folds of my pussy. He found me moist which is somewhat a constant state of being for me. "Whore," he uttered against the shell of my ear. "I've been told that you are a good fuck," he continued.

My face was turned to the right, and I was unable to look back, but his voice I would know anywhere. Then there was his scent; unmistakable, and so intoxicating. "Master?" I questioned even though I was certain it was him. He proceeded to assaulted me right there in the alley. I can't remember ever going that long without feeling his touch, and I can assure you that I came, and came, and came for him.

When he was done he lead me out of the alley onto the street. There were people bustling about, but no one seemed to take notice of the scribe with the slave scribe. He told me if I needed to make contact with him how I was to do so. He reiterated the danger, and told me that what he was going to have me do in the near future could have both he, and myself killed. I would certainly be killed without question. Then he departed. It was the sweetest half ahn I had ever known in my life. It left me with hope.

Our next encounter was when he had me hooded, and chained, and brought to a cylinder by scribes. I was left standing before a desk, and I could hear the movement of sandals as I was circled and the hood was removed. He remained behind me, and instructed me to fetch a particular book from the shelf. Again the sound of his voice was music to my ears. I exclaimed, "Master!" He smacked the curve of my ass, and told me that I must never act, or show excitement when seeing him. I was to act as if I had just seen him a few ahns ago; like all was normal.

The third time he came to me was at the apartment. He had brought a book to me, and had me memorize a page from it. Then he explained that he needed me to duplicate the document I had just been shown down to the last detail. He was sure with my skills as a scribe I would know exactly what type of rence or velum, and ink to use. I told him that I knew of ways to age the copy to make it look exactly like the original. I was given further instructions, but before I knew what was happening he was all over me. Neither of use could keep our hands off one another.

The electricity between two human beings should never be so impassioned. What he did to me, and always does to me, drives my mind into another dimension and every touch, every caress, ever kiss feels utterly sublime. He is my drug, and I knew that he was about to leave me once again. I never cry, and beg for him to stay which one might find unusual, but I know this is as hard for him as it is for me. To say I am not left broken hearted each time, and do not cry hysterically once he is gone would be a lie--I do. The pain is felt physically throughout my entire body until eventually I am numb.

It has now been nearly five hands since my last encounter with him. I have, on several occasions, went to where I was told I could find him if it were urgent that I contact him, and never once have I seen him. With each passing day I fear that something tragic has happened. Was he caught? Has he left the city, and gone abroad? I will not even allow myself to question if he is even still alive, or not. I have become a wandering soul, and I fear that people are beginning to notice that something is amiss. Canoos is growing more, and more agitated with me because I have become a kajira that seems to have lost her way.

I have lost my way. Agrippa Pontus was the light that I followed down any path.